In a World of Superheroes
by Rurrlock-God of Power
Summary: In a World of Superheroes, everyone has a story to tell. Good guys, bad guys, and everyone else in between. The phenomenon of real-life superheroes has effected many people, each one is different, but they all have one hell of an adventure.
1. In a World of Imperfection

**In a World of Superheroes**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters from the Kick-Ass comic or film written by Mark Millar, or any guest characters from other Kick-Ass fanfic's they are owned by their own writers and creators. However, all original rights and characters for In a World of Superheroes belong to me and are owned by me alone. So if anyone wants to ever us characters or anything else from this story for a special chapter or fic will have to ask first...but don't worry, there's a 99% chance I'll say yes.

If you enjoyed this chapter and want to know more about my work, you can like the Rurrlock-God of Power Facebook page.

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><p><strong>Story 1: In a World of Imperfection<strong>

New York…the city that never sleeps! The place where although the lights bright up the city, there are many dark secrets that rot at its core. Even with the sudden explosion of superheroes roaming the streets and brightening up the moods of kids walking along with their parents, begging for photos to be taken with them, like they were dressed up as Mickey Mouse or something…and most of these heroes have got names they could never repeat to a child.

Although there is one child in this city that wouldn't have to worry about that! The same child that is one of the few that doesn't feel much joy when thinking about people in tights and capes walking about trying to do good, cause she knows the truth, in a day or two most of them would be found gutted in the streets. This child has seen it all before, if you're not good enough to make it as a true superhero, you've got no chance. You have to be the best; otherwise you won't make it in this city.

''HELP!'' A woman's scream diverted the child's attention to the alleyway below; the sight of a woman being thrown about and treated like trash by three wannabe thugs set this child's heart ablaze with rage. From her utility belt, she pulled out her butterfly knife and rapidly made her way down from the roof of the building, down the ladder and into the alley behind the thugs who still proceeded to beat the woman.

''Hey assholes!'' The child called out to them. The three tugs turned and couldn't hide their amusement at seeing a little girl maybe no older than 12, standing there wearing a superhero costume mixed with purple and black and having an anime school uniform style. Mind you, they wouldn't be laughing their faces off if they knew who this girl really was, or if they saw the butterfly knife she held behind her back.

''Kid…'' One of the thugs shouted back at her. ''Unless you want to get cut too, I suggest you walk the other way!'' They all turned their backs to her and continued with their beating, big mistake! The girl dashed her knife at them, and it jammed itself right into the back of the thug that shouted at her. ''AHHH! WHAT THE…AHHH! GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!'' He screamed as he tried to reach behind him and pull out the knife.

The other two didn't bother to help, and instead each pulled out a pocketknife and advanced on the girl. ''You're dead!'' The first one yelled as he slashed at the girl's head, but she easily ducked under **_BAM!_** And then kicked him right where the sun doesn't shine. The thug winched in agony and flopped to the ground like a fish, whimpering and cursing.

The second thug went for jabs; the girl continued to back off until she hit a dead end in the shape of a brick wall. The thug smiled in glee, believing he had her trapped. He jabbed once more; however he was caught by surprise as the girl grabbed his arm with both hands and jumped up putting her feet up against the wall before jumping off it and roundhouse kicking the thug in the face, knocking him flat against the wall. Before he could even drop to the ground, the girl pulled out a handgun **_BANG!_** And couldn't miss as the thug's brains splattered against the wall.

The girl thought it was all too easy; she walked by the thug still holding his privates on the ground **_BANG!_** Taking his pathetic life just as easy. The gunshots that rung down the alley forced the last thug with the knife still embedded in his back to turn and watch helplessly as the girl aimed her gun at him now. ''NO PLEASE, I'M SORRY! DON'T, NO, NO, NO…'' **_BANG!_** Useless pleas falling on deaf ears!

The woman who was being harassed looked up at her saviour, quite surprised to see it was a girl not even half the thug's size, and got a bit of a scare seeing the gun in her hand and knowing that this girl knows how to use it well. ''Thank you!'' she whispered weakly.

The girl just nodded, even with the mask on, it was clear that her expression never changed. ''Just try to be more careful next time.'' she replied before turning to leave.

''Wait…'' The woman called out. ''Don't you have a name?''

The girl stopped in her tracks; her body tense and near to the point of shaking violently as if the cold jabbed into her very skin. She sighed before giving her answer. ''It's Hit Girl, but I'm not using that name again until I know I'm ready…until I'm the best!'' She finished and jumped up to the ladder leading back to the roof.

She didn't want to repeat any heroics let alone say her name during this week, but if that were true, why would she bother putting on the mask and patrol? She needed to get through this week! She needed to do better! All that went through Hit Girl's mind was she needed a challenge this week to prove herself, to prove she was stronger now than a year ago this week…when her father was burnt to death.

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><p>Mindy Macready's transformation from gang massacring superhero into normal everyday schoolgirl has been tough, as expected. On the first day of school, she got in trouble for beating up two boys…one had his whole hand broken. Luckily, they both started it by trying to take her lunch money and the fact they're older and bigger than her probably helped her case. Whenever she would try sports, she would get in more trouble for injuring someone else, or she would show off unintentionally to the point of her having to quit in order to throw off some suspicion.<p>

But as the months went by, things improved. She hadn't got into as many fights, and when she did, the injuries weren't that bad. Her grades were mildly improving, and she was trying to make some new friends. As much as she wanted to live a normal life, this just felt wrong, it was too slow paced for her liken. So she did the only thing she could think of, and carried on with her duties as Hit Girl in secret.

Of course, it didn't take long for her guardian Marcus to find out. Being a cop after all, he dealt with kids trying to hide something all the time. No matter how much he tried to convince Mindy to give up this game and be a normal kid, deep down he knew she could never be, not when there was one more thing she needed to finish…Red Mist.

Mindy had always agreed with her father, believing it was the D'Amico's that took their lives and her childhood. Although she could never get it back, she needed to take out Red Mist before she could lose all of it. This week…the anniversary of her father's death was the perfect time. A time that constantly made her question her own skills, if she was better could she have saved her father? She wouldn't have even been able to avenge him if it wasn't for Dave and his magic jet pack. Nightmares filled her sleep with reminders of her own weakness, she needed to get better, she needed to be the best, unlike all the other douches that think they can put on masks and instantly become heroes.

Mindy sat at her normal lunch table surrounded by her 'friends', although only four of them she could remember the names of, and only two of them didn't drive her completely insane…those four weren't here. So she sat bored out of her skin playing with her food listening on, drifting in and out of what they were saying.

''You know what I heard?'' One of the girls asked. ''Apparently May had her first period the other day!''

''No way?'' Another girl questioned in shock.

''Totally, it won't be too long until it's our turn!''

Another girl gulped at the thought. ''Will it hurt?'' She asked.

''Who cares? It's the sign of womanhood.''

Mindy scoffed at the remark, perhaps a little too loudly as the other girls heard her. ''Something you want to say Mindy?'' The lead girl asked.

''Bleeding? That's what you call a sign of womanhood?''

''And what's your sign of womanhood? Knocking every boy's teeth out?''

''At least I'm not the one that's bleeding!'' Mindy replied calmly as she got up to leave. She couldn't deal with any arguments, not during this week. As much as she wanted to argue, how is bleeding from your vagina called a sign of womanhood? She thought. Sure, it's important part of growing up, but really it was just a way of showing parents their little girl hasn't been knocked up yet. If getting covered in blood were the sign, Mindy would be a fully blossomed woman years ago.

Taking a break near the water fountain, it wasn't hard for her to hear the heavy steps of her friend and crime-fighting partner sneaking up on her. ''Hey Bigfoot, you sneak into Katie's room like that?'' She teased.

''I do not sneak…'' Dave Lizewski mumbled back hoping he wasn't blushing as much as he thought. ''It's not sneaking when she allows me into her room.''

''Whatever!'' Mindy muttered before whipping her face. ''Look, I know why you're here.''

''You do?''

''You know what week this is…more specifically, what day it is tomorrow. So please don't go on and change the subject to make me feel better, I don't mind talking about this stuff to you and Marcus.''

''I just don't want to talk about it if you're not comfortable…''

''Comfortable, it's the hardest thing to talk about. But it's painful as fuck keeping it bottled in.''

''Mindy, we talked about the language in public…'' Dave told her when he noticed faces turning to them hearing Mindy's words. But most of them were used to it anyway; you should have seen the school when the rumour spread about Mindy dropping the C word at another bully.

''You're changing the subject already!'' Mindy grumbled.

Dave sighed in frustration. ''Marcus says you've been going out again.''

''And? You got out as well!''

''Exactly, we're on our own. Why have you been doing everything solo lately?''

''Just need to convince myself.''

''Convince yourself of what?'' He asked.

''That I'm better than I was a year ago. When I lost my daddy, and when I almost died if it weren't for you.''

He lowered his head knowing he would probably get a can of whoop ass for mentioning this, but better that than letting Mindy beat herself. ''But like you said, if it weren't for me your dad would still be alive.''

She turned and looked at Dave with sympathetic eyes. ''Don't know that do we? D'Amico would have sent Red Mist after us anyway; we would have fallen for it like the gullible idiots we were, and it would have been me and him in those chairs, who would have saved us and taken down D'Amico then?''

It was a mixture of frustration and embarrassment Dave felt whenever Mindy won a conversation between the two of them. ''You can't keep doing this to yourself…''

''Doing what?'' She snapped. ''Making myself the best there is?''

''Punishing yourself over something you had no control over!''

''If I had no control I wouldn't have saved your sorry ass. I need to prepare myself and get better every day. What would I do if it were you or Marcus next in that chair? I need to be strong!''

''You are strong Mindy!''

''In your eyes maybe, but you're the one that takes the beating. I need to dish it out; I need to be at least twice the hero I am now. Until that happens, I won't stop until I know.''

''How will you know when you're the best though?''

''When I have Red Mist's head, and the nightmares of my daddy stop!''

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><p>Mindy had no disrespect for Dave whatsoever; in fact, from the first time she heard of him, she'd never hated him. She had an awful lot of respect for the guy. He wasn't the best fighter…or even a good fighter at that, but he was determined and enthusiastic about being a superhero, even with balancing that life with the one he has with Katie. But Mindy didn't want that yet, she needed to know she was good enough first before she could take a rest.<p>

She felt alone, however she had to bare it, she needed to be alone until she was ready. How can she prove herself to be an independent and better person if she's got Dave always looking out for her? She didn't hate Dave for it, she was grateful to have Dave look out for her when she needed some help, but the best shouldn't need help.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she noticed a black limo pull up on the other side of the road. Out of it, a large man exited and walked into the alley followed by at least four bodyguards. Something was going down; this was Mindy's chance, tonight was the night to show herself she was capable. This was that night…exactly one year on from her father's death.

Ducking and weaving her way around the alley, she followed until she came right at the end of it where the large man and his bodyguards stood. Beyond them was someone dressed in costume; brown jacket over a red costume, his mask in the shape of a lion and his face emerging from the mouth with an eye mask covering his face. ''You got the package?'' The super villain asked.

''Of course!'' The large man spoke and nodded to the one bodyguard who was carrying a briefcase. ''You heard Wacky Warrior.'' He chuckled causing the other bodyguards to laugh as well.

''Hey I'm working on the name!'' The villain snapped back at them and took the briefcase from the guard. Some kind of deal was going down; finally Hit Girl can have a real challenge to prove her worth instead of crap thugs and muggers. She rolled around silently and hid behind a trashcan, her small size doing well for stealth. She pulled out two handguns…

**_SLASH! SLASH!_** ''AHHHH!'' She jumped a bit when blood curdling screams and the sound of something hacking away at bodies echoed around her. She quickly flipped over and got quite a shock with the sight she saw before her. Already, the bodyguards were dead…no, slaughtered. Their guns only just in their hands, they were taken out before they had a chance. Just then, the body of the large leader slumped to the floor; his chest down to his stomach practically ripped open. Even though Hit Girl was used to these sights, she felt uneasy…even more saw when the limp body of Wacky Warrior was thrown in her direction by the cause of all this carnage.

Standing in the middle of the alley was a tall, lean man with a short beard, sideburns and moustache, probably in his early 40's. Wearing black and red ornate clothing with a crucifix pendant around his neck, he was like a Spanish version of Dracula. His attire consists of a wide-brimmed black hat and a long, open black coat with red, flower-patterned sleeves and collar. Across his back was something she couldn't quite distinguish, but it looked like some type of weapon that could spring out any second.

''What the hell?'' Hit Girl blurted out before she could stop herself. The man turned his attention to her and stared her down like a Hawk over a mouse. She looked around for any weapon this man could have used, he surely couldn't have done this damage without one, and then she noticed the man's fists drenched with blood. He did all this with his hands? Either this guy was really good, or really psychotic…perhaps a mixture of both.

''Is this what the world has come to?'' The man spoke in a very thick British accent. ''The battle of good and evil now becoming nothing but child's play?''

''Child's play?'' Hit Girl scoffed sarcastically. ''I never play!''

''If that were true, these common thugs would have been dealt with long ago by your hand. Unlike me, were these mediocre thugs are below my standard.''

''Then why fight them?'' Hit Girl asked.

At first it seemed as if he ignored her question, walking over to the briefcase and quickly taking whatever content was inside. Now Hit Girl's curiosity was at peak, all this for something in that briefcase, it couldn't have been that large as the man easily slipped whatever it was into his sleeve. ''They were wasting space,'' He responded finally, not looking back at her as he inspected the ground as if looking for something else. ''Just as you are right now!''

''What?'' Hit Girl replied sharply, ticked off with this guy's tone. ''Who do you think you're talking to asshole?''

''You will watch your tongue when speaking to your elite!''

''My elite? Dude you think you're Superman high on sunlight?''

''Know this name well girl, for you should respect it. I am Hex, leader of the Supreme Heroes, the best in the world at what I do!''

Hit Girl's smile started to disappear as those words sunk in; this guy thinks he is the best? Her mind shifted from what was in the case to seeing what this man was made of, and since he was giving her stick like this, this was just giving her a reason to test him out and finally prove herself as a fighter. But she held back, she was certain Dave wouldn't like to hear how she got into a fight with another superhero. ''Well remember my name, I'm Hit Girl. Daughter of Big Daddy, and future best superhero in the world!''

''You obviously didn't hear me. I am a Supreme Hero, the level beyond your common group. You and your father are of no concern of mine!'' He spoke calmly as he turned to leave.

Something tugged at Hit Girl inside, hearing this guy talk crap about her father like that. ''Don't talk about my dad like that asshole!''

''I believe I told you too watch your words girl!'' Hex called out while walking away. ''Being a superior I can talk however I want to about you and your father.''

''He's more of a hero than you'll ever be!''

''So where is he?'' Hex asked with curiosity. When Hit Girl didn't give an answer, he chuckled slightly. ''Dead no doubt, you call him better than me, and yet he dies at the hands of common thugs, pathetic.''

''Take that back!'' She hissed, however Hex didn't respond and instead turned and started to walk away. Not on his anniversary, not on this day was she going to let anyone talk about her father like that. She charged at full pace towards Hex and went for the fly kick. Just before impact, Hex blocked with his arm hardly using any effort. Hit Girl jumped back and pulled out her double-ended blade.

''By attacking me, you are now eligible to be killed at my hands. You should be honoured!''

''I'll write that on your gravestone. Now shut up, and pick your weapon!''

Hex only gave the little girl a grin. Neither were intimidated by the other; she had taken on opponents twice this guy's size, yet he had unknown years amount of experience. He says he's the best and she wants to be the best. Hex reached for the pendant around his neck, and pulled it apart revealing a knife too small to even be considered a pocketknife. ''This is the weakest weapon I have, it should be more than enough.''

''Cute, compensating for something?'' Was her only comment before the battle began! She charged and spun around, swinging her double blades at the man, who backed off from the attacks. She was giving him no chance of pulling a counter, or at least she thought she wasn't…**_BAM!_** At almost Bruce Lee speed; Hit Girl was struck in the chest with a punch, a punch that could have knocked the wind out of her if she wasn't wearing her bulletproof suit.

She thought he just got a lucky shot; she ran to the wall and jumped off it, giving her to momentum to kick at Hex, who leaned back to dodge yet again. Once on the ground, Hit Girl leaped up back into the air and slammed her blade down. **_CLASH!_** And got quite a surprise to see her blade blocked by the tiny dagger. **_BAM! BAM!_** Two rapid punches to her chest again, before Hex grabbed her and threw her behind him.

She slowly picked herself up; this wasn't happening right? No one has been able to get this many hits on her before she could even land a punch, at least not since her and Big Daddy when they would train. Just the thought of her dad reminded her of why she got into this; she needed to be the best, to make sure no one would ever die right before her eyes again, when she could have stopped it.

She ran towards her target once more; she stabbed her blade into the ground and flipped up on it and tried to stamp him into the ground. Hex blocked once more; while in the air, Hit Girl pulled out another blade with a string attached at the end of it. As she landed, she wrapped it around his arm and went to kick at him. Instead, he kicked her own blade and used it to block her attack, then pulled on her own string, bringing her to him **_BAM! BAM!_** He gave her a double punch to the face that would rattle her ancestors.

She sunk to her hands and knees and coughed out a mix of saliva and blood, as well as a baby tooth that was starting to feel wobbly anyway. This can't be happening she thought, not tonight, of all nights she can't lose tonight. Especially not to someone who verbally slammed her dad like that! She screamed in frustration and became a blind fury; punching and kicking out at Hex with a vengeance, but couldn't land a single hit.

Wanting to end it, she pulled out two handguns and jumped above him ready to shoot him down. Using the string still wrapped around his arm; Hex whiplashes it at her face, causing a scar to form over her eye. **_BANG! BANG!_** This also caused her to lose aim and miss her shoots. He grabbed her around her waist and then slammed her into the wall. She slumped to the ground, broken and battered to the point of tears…but it was the emotions she was feeling that hurt more, disappointment, frustration and anger.

''Stay down girl! Never fight what you can't win.''

''I'm going to win…'' Hit Girl responded defiantly, and got back to her feet, much to her own surprise as well as Hex's.

He didn't attack, he allowed her to get back up, too see what else she had to offer. ''How old are you?'' He asked out of the blue.

''None of your Goddamn business!'' Hit Girl screamed before going on the attack again. She roundhouse kicked at Hex, who blocked once again. She rolled to the side and grabbed her blade again; spinning around she slashed at him, he blocked with his tiny blade. Grabbing the blade himself he jabbed, thanks to Hit Girl's small figure she ducked out of the way. **_BAM!_** But could do nothing as Hex's knee connects with her face.

That's when she felt it; the sharp pain enters her side. She grunted and moaned, and it wasn't until she saw Hex's knife jutted into her that she started to panic. She punched away at Hex, hoping to knock him back just to check her wound. She's had stabs like these before, but never one this painful, nor in a situation this bleak. She was losing all hope of winning, all hope of ever seeing another day or seeing Marcus, Dave and anyone else again.

**_BAM!_** Hex punches her down to the ground, the knife coming out of her. She weeps on the ground holding her side; thankfully due to the knife's small blade it didn't strike any vital organs nor cause a gash deep enough to risk large amounts of blood lose. It was just the fear she was feeling now that scared and hurt her more.

''Why are you doing this?'' Hex asked, now the curious one. ''Getting involved in something that people like you can never escape from. You have some skill I admit that, but you're still a commoner, a pathetic example of what heroes are these days…dreamers! Your father is probably cursing your name right now.''

''Shut up!'' She hissed, and was once again up on her feet. She charged at Hex once more; he was going for the kill now, tired of this petite game. He jabbed, but Hit Girl flipped onto her hands and did the splits while doing a handstand, the knife just missing her. She kicks out and the knife goes flying out of Hex's hand. She flips back onto her feet and takes another battle pose while Hex's eyes never leave his now empty hand, a face filled with disbelief. ''You know, I heard a rumour about men with little knives.'' She taunted.

''You disarmed me?'' Hex whispered and then did the last thing Hit Girl expected…laughed his head. ''Has this world really come to this? For the first time in years, a mere child has disarmed me? What is your game girl? Why do you continue fighting?''

Unlike before, where she would hesitate answering a question like that, she responded proudly. ''My name is Hit Girl! My dad died, and I'm continuing his legacy. So no one ever has to die again, I will not let the nightmares hurt me. I will be the best!''

''I see…'' Hex spoke now in a soft and sympathetic tone. ''Then so be it. I will now fight you not out of pity…but respect!'' Just then Hex pulled out something from behind his back, it looked like a handle to a sword. Her theory was confirmed as he flipped it, and a metallic sword sprouted from the handle. ''And as I sign of respect, I now fight you with my strongest weapon!''

''Oh shit.'' Hit Girl muttered in fear.

''Still…you will have to do something about the language…if you live through this!'' Hex said just before he jumped forward and gave an almighty swipe at Hit Girl. She just managed to roll underneath Hex, and turned back to watch as a trashcan that Hex hit was literally sliced in half, with the classic sound effect and delayed reaction as well.

''No way!'' She muttered as Hex continued his assault. Maybe it was the sheer size and weight of the sword, but Hex seemed to be moving an awful lot slower than before giving Hit Girl the chance to move aside and jump forward for the attack. **_BAM!_** Once more, Hex kneed Hit Girl right in the stomach. **_BAM!_** Before punching her in the back, causing her to collapse to the ground.

''Tell me again, why are you continuing to fight?'' Hex asked as he stood over her.

''I told you! I need to be the best!'' She snapped back at him.

''That title cannot be given to a commoner like yourself. Now tell me again why you are continuing to fight?''

''Maybe if I hit you, you'll get my answer more clearly!'' Hit Girl punched again, Hex stepped aside and it was he who was now on the back foot as Hit Girl charged forward at him. She jumped up to kick at him; but he kicked forward as well and hit the top of her knee causing her to fall to the ground. **_BAM!_** Then uppercut her in the chin, knocking her back once more.

''I will get my answer with another question, how did your father die?''

''Shut up!'' Hit Girl screamed and kicked again. Hex grabbed her leg and held her in place. He wasn't going to let go until he had an answer so she gave him one. ''He was ambushed! Someone played him, and it cost him his life!'' She swung and tried to give a haymaker. Hex leaned forward and head-butt her square in the face before sweeping her legs and knocking her to the ground again.

''And you?'' He swung his sword down slowly, giving her time to roll aside and dodge the attack.

''I tried to save him, but I couldn't! I'm not the best, so I couldn't save him!''

''You're right, you are not the best!'' Hex jabbed again. Hit Girl rolled to the side, jumped up and double kicked, which Hex blocked once again. ''But if you were the best by some miracle, would you have saved him?''

''Yes!''

**_BAM!_** Hex roundhouse kicked her in the face. It was getting harder and harder for her to get up, but she would always find a way back on her feet and carry on with the fight. ''You will never know that! By your standards did you do your best?''

Hit Girl thought the question over, remembering what happened that night a year ago. It was dark, all the thugs were fully loaded, and it was harder still with her father being burnt to a crisp. ''I did do my best!'' She yelled at him. Then something caught her eye, Hex's pendant blade. She quickly grabbed it and attacked Hex with it, he just kept walking backwards not bothering to block or counter anymore. She was so lightheaded and weak now, she couldn't find a good aim to strike at him.

The light reflecting off the tiny blade gave her frightening thoughts; the thoughts of going through that dark warehouse again with her light flickering brightly and rapidly to distract the bad guys. She was giving the fight of her life then, just like she was tonight. ''It was hard, I tried to save him…''

''And you didn't!''

''I know that mother fu…'' **_BAM!_** She took another blow to the face causing her to stumble back.

''Watch how you talk to me!'' Hex smirked. Losing it, the little girl screamed and went on a rampage at him again with his little blade. She was fighting the impossible, at this stage she was too weak now to stand up from another hit, and they both knew it. So why wasn't he trying to end it anymore? It was like he wanted to know what was really driving Hit Girl on…and that's when she let the world now…

''I know I didn't save him! But what could have I done? I did the best I could! I did the best I could! I DID THE BEST I COULD!'' She screamed one final time before jumping forward. Hex needn't do nothing but step aside and leave Hit Girl to land face first against the wall. She crashed once again to the ground, holding her bloody and bruised face. Her purple wig had fallen off, revealing her bright blond hair. She lifted her eye mask slightly to reach for her nose, feeling the blood from the impact she just gave to herself.

''If you did the best you could, why do you continue to hurt yourself?'' Hex asked. Hit Girl froze at the realisation. She did do the best she could; there was no denying that. There was nothing more she had to give, Big Daddy was going to die however good she was and it was until now she realised, after a full year of pushing herself from something inevitable, she broke down in tears.

Hex flipped his sword and it folded back into its handle, which he placed on his back before taking his leave. Hit Girl heard his footsteps leaving and looked up at him. ''How did you do it? Be the best?''

Hex didn't stop to answer instead he just called back. ''You are only the best when you have nothing to lose. I am one that has nothing. You, I can tell fights for beliefs and people that will always cause you to question. You'll never be the best, if you were and you lost…what would you do then?''

Hit Girl's face dropped to the ground, she was exhausted to the point of passing out. It had been ages since she's taken a beating like this, but it didn't hurt as much now. She was finally free of her self-torment. Then she realised something. ''What was in the case?'' She didn't get a response off of him. After that, she noticed something else. ''Hey asshole, your knife!'' She calls out before throwing the little blade at Hex's feet.

He grabbed it, giving it a quick clean and placed it back on his pendant. ''If it wasn't for your vulgar mouth, you would be one for me to watch. I reckon in a few years, you could become something special, perhaps someone I can respect even more.''

''Like what you are? A Supreme Hero whatever that is?''

''Not that good!'' Hex gave his final words before disappearing into the night. Leaving Hit Girl to collect her things, tend to herself just so she could have the strength to make it back home…oh boy, Marcus was going to kill her!

* * *

><p>''So Mindy what's all this about…'' Dave stopped in mid-sentence once he entered the gym. Around the room were pictures of boxers old and new from David Haye to Rocky Balboa. Weights, punching bags, treadmills, and in the middle of the room was Mindy dressed in purple shirt and jeans with her eye mask on. ''What's going on?'' Dave asked.<p>

''You got your costume?'' Mindy asked ignoring his question. Dave lifted his rucksack suggesting he remembered it. Mindy walked up to him, showing him her battle scars from her fight the other night.

''Jesus…Mindy? What happened?'' Dave panicked.

''Relax I'm fine now. I've got a lot to say…''

''You going to start with how you got yourself hurt like that?''

''No! I'm going to start with an apology. I'm sorry for biting your head off the other day, I was so eager to be the best there is that I got in over my head and tried to become something I'm not.''

''Which is?''

''The best! I'm only a girl, I make mistakes. I just need to shut up and keep taking them. Besides, I'm better than your sorry excuse for an ass.''

''Hey I'm improving, I'm starting my own homemade training regime…''

''It's not working dude, in fact I think you've lost a bit of muscle the past year. So that's why I've called you here. Marcus has permanently grounded me…''

''I'm guessing not the type of grounded like stopping you from seeing movies and stuff.''

''He threatened if I were Hit Girl again, that would actually happen…'' They both laughed lightly before Hit Girl brought out of her training kit a pair of boxing gloves and pads. ''You don't become a world class hero by putting on a jacket and taking it off over and over…''

''It's actually wax on, wax off.'' Dave pointed out.

''Not when it's Jayden Smith,'' She joked before throwing him the boxing gloves, Dave caught them and then the look of realisation frowned upon him as Mindy continued. ''I'm already the best I can be, you on the other hand still have a lot of potential.''

''You're training me?''

''Got that right!'' Mindy answered as she put in a mouth guard and put the pads on her hands. ''Now hit me''.

''I'm not going to…''

''Hit me!''

''But what if I actually do…''

''Hit me!''

''Does Marcus know about this?''

''Hit me or I'll tell the school about yours and Katie's night-time activities!''

''How did you know…I mean…AHHH!'' Dave charged holding out his arm to hit her. Hit Girl just leaned forward on her hands and knees, and flipped her leg forward kicking Dave right in his nose. He fell flat on his back instantly. If it weren't for his metal plates, he would probably be out cold for days.

Hit Girl stood over the wounded hero and lowered herself so she was face to face with him. ''Remember, getting hit is what makes us human. Just shut up, take it in and keep moving forward!''

**The End!**


	2. In a World of Samaritans

**In a World of Superheroes**

**Disclaimer: **Now, although this fic may contain mostly OC's and groups owned by me, any character that appears in this fic that are from the Kick-Ass film or comics are not owned by me, but by Mark Miller and John Romita Jnr. Also, this will take place in film continuity.

**Story 2: In a World of Samaritans**

New York is a place where just about anything can happen to a man, especially one caught up in a web of struggle and deceit, well, that's ten times worse when you take up a costume and decide to become a villain. But for Roger Graves, it was a necessity for him to survive in this changing world. One a peaceful man who let the world walk all over him, and for him to realise just how hard they were stamping in his face when it was too late.

He lost his family, his wealth, all he had now was a rundown apartment in which he pays the bills through the money in purses he snatches…but tonight along with that, he's got a bullet hole in his shoulder, and losing blood fast.

There was nothing special about tonight; just a routine snatch along with his two mates who wanted to make a little money themselves, of course Roger had only chatted with them on Facebook a few times, so he wasn't surprised that they weren't trustworthy, but he did have to curse his luck that he was the only one who took the bullet. A middle aged woman? Who would have thought she would have a handgun in her purse as well as her valuables. Maybe if Roger didn't just loose his grip the woman wouldn't have had time to pull out the gun or to squeeze the trigger?

Once the shot was taken, the woman had run off screaming as if she was the one who took the bullet; Roger stumbled and cried on the ground, holding his wound trying to stop the bleeding. His two mates not wanting the extra weight had already taken off to leave their comrade behind. Roger was almost without options, he couldn't go to the hospital like this in costume, and he'd get done in for sure.

But he was losing blood fast, and his arm had lost all feeling, meaning he couldn't ditch the costume and find help. He hid in an alley way for a bit until all the commotion turned the other cheek, he tried to stop the bleeding himself adding more pressure with his dark sleeved costume, but he couldn't do it and was losing consciousness.

He groaned in pain, with a mix of frustration at how this has all turned out for him. All he wanted was a few twenties at best to have dinners on the table till the end of the week. He tried once more with the costume, the white boots coming off. His dark blue jeans he didn't have to worry about, however the black top wouldn't come off unless he had an extra hand. And he couldn't risk taking off his baseball helmet of a mask without the costume coming off first, suspicion would be thrown on him by any pass-byers, and in the condition he was in he couldn't deal with that right now.

Beside him he could make out the muffled sounds of a group of people walking closer to him, chatting to themselves. Roger couldn't do anything to hide, and he now couldn't reject any help that would come his way. As they got closer, he could see there were three teenagers, each dressed in biker punk get up and filling the air with their profanity and prude comments.

Still, it was better than nothing. Roger used the wall to help him to his feet; he was losing all the feeling on one side of his body. Limping his way over, the teenagers stopped in their tracks. ''What the hell?''

''Please, I need help, I've been shot…'' Roger said in a hoarse tone. ''Can one of you call for help?''

''You got money?'' One of the teens asked.

''What?''

''Any money for the call? I'm not wasting my credit for some freak''.

''I've been shot! I'm going to die if you don't call!''

''Not our problem mate!'' They all scoffed and tried to walk around. Roger wasn't taking this and moved in front of them. The teens however were not intimidated by someone clearly unable to fight. ''You want us to mess you up too?''

''All I'm asking for is one 911 call, surely you frickin punks can manage that!''

''Don't you have a phone?''

''If I did, don't you think I would have used it already you asshole. Just make the damn call!''

_**BAM!**_ As soon as the words left Roger's mouth, a fist from one of the teens came flying right into his face, knocking him down to the cold hard ground. And as if that wasn't enough, the three then proceeded to kick out at him while he lay defenceless and dying. The wound growing and he was losing more blood than before. Asking for help put him in a worse condition then he already was. ''You should have thought ahead before doing this superhero crap!'' One of them said before they all walked off high fiving each other and continuing with whatever they were talking about before as if nothing happened.

They thought he was a hero, and they beat the crap out of him. Then again he shouldn't be too surprised, before all this he was a good man. A lawyer who did his best to put away all the scum and criminals that tried to beg for false mercy. Ironic that in a few years this is what would become of him. Heroes are never respected anymore, people would always talk about the bad guy. Being the lawyer got him wealth, but it didn't last.

In seemed like hours since the beating from those teens, a few times Roger seemed to slip back and forth, but finally he stayed awake long enough to see the moon and stars, as well as the faint lights of a police car driving by. This was it, certainty he would be caught for his crimes, but right now all he cared about was not dying in the gutter. He crawled his way out of the alley and closer to the road, waving his arm in the air. ''Hey, stop!''

The car pulled up and out stood a rather large man (large as in fat not tall), beard unshaved, and his hair all curly and messy. He walked over and looked down at the man. ''Jesus, what happened to you?'' He slurred out his words. Oh great, a drunk cop. But then again, maybe he can get away from this costume thing.

''I was on my way…to my daughter's dress up party…I've been shot, please I need help sir!'' The cop didn't reply and looked back and forth between him and his car, like he was actually thinking it over. His partner was still sleeping in the shotgun seat. Roger was losing it, the nausea getting to him. ''What are you waiting for? Help me!''

''You know I would love to, but we've got a call some bank robbery going down the road and we can't wait''.

''Just drop me off at the closest hospital!''

''I can't there is no closest hospital. Sorry mate, you're on your own''.

His partner finally woke up from his slumber and held his head out the window, he looked more drunk and caveman like. ''Hey Leslie can we get a move on, those babes aren't going to wait forever!''

''I'm coming Frank!'' The cop, Leslie, replied as he stood up and walked back to the car leaving a confused and dying man on the street.

''Hold on…'' Roger called out. ''You're leaving me just so you can't be late to get laid. You bastards, please help!''

''Sorry buddy, some people are just luckier than others!'' Leslie responded as he turned the key and started the car up. But just before he drove off, his partner Frank looked out the window again and yelled. ''See, all you superhero whacks end up the same. This will teach you all a lesson, leave the real work to the cops!''

All that went through Roger's mind was the words Leslie said to him, some people are just luckier than others, which was so true. Roger once thought he was the luckiest guy in the world not so long ago, he had a wife who he loved and kids he adored. They were wealthy and care-free, that is until he realised not all was as it seemed, and he lost everything he held dear.

Cops do the real work? If they did their real work, he wouldn't have lost everything in the first place, he would still have something to keep him sane. Something to stop him from putting on this costume he found in the trash a few weeks ago, and get shot tonight and left to die. Funny, twice he was believed to be a hero, and twice he was left to rot. This world really doesn't have any heroes left anymore.

He was slumped up against a dumpster now, just waiting to be put out of his misery. His costume was now stuck to him with his blood being the glue, every time he moved it would tug at his wound only worsening the pain. He called out a few more times for help from people who walked by, but none were willing to take the risk to help the man in a costume drenched in blood, it didn't matter whether he was a superhero or villain, no one would help.

''Hey pal?'' Roger heard a voice call out. Apart of him just wanted to shrug whoever was calling him off, he was too tired to deal with anymore crap. ''You don't look so good!'' The voice said again. This time Roger turned and caught sight of a man walking up to him, shouldn't be too out of the ordinary, and it wouldn't be if the man wasn't wearing a costume as well. A man in a purple jump suit and mask with white streaks on it. As well as red eye shades, and a baseball bat wrapped in tin foil.

''What gave that away?'' Roger joked in a voice so weak it was barely audible.

''I think you need help''.

''Oh yeah, you going to use that magic stick of yours there to heal me?'' Roger said sarcastically.

''Actually it's my gravity pole!''

''What the hell is a gravity pole?'' Roger asked before coughing and giving a shiver.

''I think I'll explain after I get you some help'' He said as he went over and helped Roger up to his feet, putting his shoulder under Roger's arm.

''You're helping me?''

''No, the shop was out of lion fur so just play dead and you can be my cape. Of course I'm helping you'' The man said in a playful and sarcastic tone. ''I'm Doctor Gravity by the way''.

Within the hour, Doctor Gravity had called for help and personal saw Roger to the hospital. Before the ambulance pulled up to get them, he helped Roger out of his costume and tucked it down a man hole cover into the sewers, the damage it was in was beyond repair and covered in his blood so they couldn't just throw it away. He never told the hero that he was a purse snatching thief; he might not have helped him if he had, but then again, he was still surprised he was being helped at all. He didn't know him, there was no reason for Doctor Gravity, and yet here he was, in a hospital bed after a 4 hour stitch up with the hero by his bedside.

''So let me get this straight…'' Roger said. ''That Gravity pole allows you to make things ten times its own weight?''

''Twenty actually''. Doctor Gravity answered.

''Be cool if it was actually real''.

''If I could make a real Gravity pole, I would be more than a physics professor. It's just a way of allowing me to be who I really want to be. Never could do that before all this started. Speaking of, I best be off, got a class to teach tomorrow''. He got up to leave, just as he was about to walk out the door, Roger called out to him.

''Hold on, I still need to know why you wanted to save me!''

''Well…what else is there to say? You were going to die, I couldn't let that happen''.

''But you don't know me, wouldn't have affected your conscious if you just left me''.

''Would you rather I left you to die?'' Doctor asked with curiosity.

''No, I mean…'' Roger stuttered trying to find the right words wanting to get a straight answer. ''What was your reason for saving me? You know…I'm not really a hero''.

''I knew…'' Doctor said earning a surprised look off Roger. ''Dark costume, baseball helmet, fits the description for how to dress as a super villain. You got the idea off the internet right?''

''Yeah''.

Doctor chuckled slightly, and then thought hard about his answer. ''Well, I'm a hero. And a hero just doesn't leave his fellow man to die''.

Roger scoffed. ''Hero? I don't believe in that anymore. I use to be a good person, and look where that got me. My wife cheating on me with some other scumbag lawyer who then accuses me of beating her, she accuses against me and gets all my wealth and my kids. I was the hero in that situation and I lost. How can you be a hero if you lose every battle''.

''So you've lost every battle? Then shouldn't you be dead right about now?'' Doctor pointed out. ''Look, we don't win all our battles. I'm new to this so I haven't had any yet, but as long as I keep in my mind who I want to be, then I'll try to win as much as possible''.

''So what do you want to be?''

''A hero''. Doctor answered simply.

''But what is a hero?''

''I can't answer that for you, you need to have your own interpretation. Just as long as you believe it's the right choice for you and the others around you, you should be fine''.

The villain was now starting to piece it together, what he's been doing since losing everything was got him nowhere, it wasn't right either for him or the others he hurt or stole from. If he wanted to be a hero, he would have continued with his case and fought to get his kids back. But he knew it was too late for that now, but that didn't mean it was too late to do something else to make his life actually meaningful.

''Oh by the way…'' Doctor Gravity said as he stood at the door. ''Never caught your name?''

''Never had one for this…but I might find one soon. Thanks for everything!''

After a few days, Roger Graves was out of hospital. With Doctor Gravity's help, no one knew about his villain lifestyle and they made up the story that he was caught in a hit and run, as long as he promised Gravity that he wouldn't resort to stealing again, and he wouldn't. He was new and rejuvenated. Running Roger Graves 2.0, his old life was gone, but that didn't mean he was gone as well as his beliefs on heroes.

He was back on the streets within a week, under the cover of darkness watching the city. His will had returned to him, new life and a new calling. He'd never thought he'd see himself in this position, but he wouldn't want it any other way right now. And good timing too, cause there was an old man being beaten that needed help.

''Give us your money you old man!'' The punk shouted as the man as he held him up by the collar of his shirt. Irony strikes the bell once more, the old man was being harassed by the same three teens that left the old Roger to die…let's see how they react to the new Roger.

''Hey punks!'' The three teens turned and caught the sight of a man dressed in white robes and black jeans. Light blue streaks going across his costume and mask much in the style of Doctor Gravity's. The mask was white with the blue streaks, and over his eyes were black shades. ''Show some proper respect to the man!''

The teen just spat and laughed, throwing the man he held to the ground. The three pulled out pocket knives and advanced on the hero. ''And just who's going to make us? You?''

Poor fools, they didn't even recognise the face they were staring at. Maybe if they watched for a bit longer they would have realised, but right now, their eyes were diverted to the bow staff that Roger has just pulled from his back, wrapped in tin foil as a sign of honour to the man that saved his life, a man that didn't need to and shouldn't have, but did anyway. ''That's right me…The Samaritan!''

**The End!**


	3. In a World of Flaws

**In a World of Superheroes**

**Disclaimer: **Now, although this fic may contain mostly OC's and groups owned by me, any character that appears in this fic that are from the Kick-Ass film or comics are not owned by me, but by Mark Miller and John Romita Jnr. Also, this will take place in film continuity.

****Note: ****Hi everyone, really sorry the next story for this has taken so long. Anyway wanted to get this chapter up for my friend Team Girl Rules who hasn't been feeling well lately, so hope this chapter cheers her up. Also, for those who are fans of my fics 'Omega Kid' and 'Scarlett', if you look closely you may find some very familiar characters. Hope you enjoy!

**Story 3: In a World of Flaws**

_4 Years Ago…_

The morning sun swept throughout Tennessee, blazing summer day to greet the grouchy sleepers who wanted to enjoy their Sunday lay-in, didn't look like that was going to happen though. One sleeper on the top floor of the apartment, on the first window where the light shines through was probably feeling the worst due to their lack of sleep, not that she really gets that much anyway. But in the end, 13-year-old Diandra Holloran gave in and caught out of bed to enjoy the Sunday while it lasted.

She went through the usual morning routine of washing her face, brushing her teeth and getting her long blond hair out of knots before joining her mum and dad at the table for breakfast. Slouched on her chair, with one arm supporting her light head as she slowly took small bites out of her toast. Her father, Toby, reading the morning paper next to her turned and gave a look of concern. ''You okay kiddo?''

''Fine dad''. Diandra replied with a whisper.

''Not get much sleep again?''

''What's new?'' She said sarcastically. It had been years since she had a proper night's sleep; the maximum since then has been maybe six hours max, she was always carrying heavy bags under her eyes that made other people think she was some type of freaky Goth. But really she's had trouble sleeping since birth, she forgot what the name of the condition was, but it meant she found it very had to actually fall asleep in the dark. This has caused her quite a few problems in school.

Her mother, Denise had walked into the room; it was almost impossible not to call mother and daughter lookalikes, their resemblance was so uncanny some of Diandra's friends once mistook her for D's sister…something that quite pleased her mother. ''Dear…'' She placed her hand gently on Diandra's shoulder forcing her to look up. ''Why don't you skip the shopping trip today and get some rest? You look like you need it, your bags are starting to get bags''.

Diandra shook her head drearily. ''No mum I want to go, I'm normally better just after breakfast''. Denise nodded in reply and left her daughter to do her own breakfast. It was always pointless to tell her daughter something, she was stubborn, never listening and always insisting on doing things…she smiled lightly as the fact her daughter resembled her inside and out.

* * *

><p>''So any place in particular?'' Denise asked as she drove past some stores on the side. D who was riding shotgun looked at all of them for a moment.<p>

''Eh, some of these places still sell clothes from last year''.

''Well what about the shoes? They have some nice shoes''.

''Now those are from your generation''. She teased earning a playful nudge from her mother.

''Hey, I'm still young and hip''.

''No one says hip anymore. In fact I don't even know most of the time it's like…yeah blood, I'm going to waste that, brov!'' D put on her best gangster impression.

Denise tried not to chuckle at her daughter's play acting. ''That's what you get for watching all those British Drama's and films''.

''Cause British films are the best. Have you not seen Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz? Legendary films couldn't get into Scott Pilgrim though that film lost me after 10 minutes''.

''I haven't even heard of any of those films you said…'' Denise grinned and turned back to the car ahead of her. ''Does this guy even know how to drive?''

D ignored what was going on in front and continued with her film rant. ''Of course there's This is England, Harry Brown, and Misfits! Only good superhero show out there''.

''Smallville was good''.

''I hate Superman''. Diandra muttered under her breath so her mother couldn't hear. D had never gotten into any of the popular American heroes; she's just never found them interesting at all. In fact, she wasn't a heavy superhero fan at all, not really getting the idea of why people would risk their lives for people they hardly know and probably wouldn't do the same for them…although she had to admit there were some cool Batman moments she liked, she still never really followed it.

As she stared out of the window, Denise was still having problems with the car in front of her which was going at such a slow pace, and with it being a one lane drive she couldn't go past him. ''Come on buddy move!'' Denise groaned and then pressed the hour on the wheel for him to move faster. The car eventually did so. ''Don't know what his problem was. Anyway, how's the schoolwork going?''

''MUM LOOK OUT!'' D screamed. Denise looked forward and could only watch as the car in front backed into them so fast; they skidded on top of him on impact. That crash itself was pretty nasty, it only got worse as the next car along came ploughing into the back of their car, causing them to tumble and turn along the road hard before finally coming to a stop at least 70 yards away from the crash.

* * *

><p>It felt like days later before Diandra came too; the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was blinding white lights on the ceiling. Her mouth was covered by some breathing apparatus of sorts. And then she could hear the muffled sounds of people talking around her. Before she faded out again, a doctor just passed her and from the looks of it…he had blood everywhere, but it was too late for her to panic because she passed out again.<p>

Next time she woke, she was in another room, this one didn't blind her to the point of passing out like the last room. She no longer had the breathing apparatus on, and as she looked around there were no doctors at all. It was only when she pushed herself up, or at least tried to, she had almost no feeling in her body practically the arms, she finally noticed her mum and dad sat in the corner.

Denise was the first to see her daughter wake up and quickly ran over to her, kissing her forehead. ''Oh baby, you're fine, you're going to be fine''. She whispered frantically not wanting to let her go. Toby had to move her back to give D some breathing space.

''What…what happened?'' D asked weakly. Starting to get the feeling back in her body again, in fact she could feel her toes start to wiggle now.

''The driver in front of us was apparently drunk and…'' Denise couldn't even continue as she started crying on Toby's shoulder. She didn't want to appear weak in front of her daughter now, but it was just too much for her.

''Mum…'' D said now worried. ''You weren't hurt were you?''

''No baby, no I'm fine. We're both…we're both going to make it okay?''

Toby gently moved Denise to the side and kneeled down next to D's bed. ''The doctors would like to keep you under observation for a few more days maybe weeks, just to make sure everything's going to be okay for you''.

''Weeks? How long have I been out already…since the crash?''

''It happened 3 days ago''.

Diandra gasped hearing that and mouthed 3 days, surprised that she was out for that long and yet already making such a speedy recovery. ''Wow, I guess I finally got my worth of sleep now huh?'' She joked trying to ease her parent's mood, but instead it just seemed to make things worse as Denise broke down again.

''Mum, it's okay I'm feeling better, look I can even move my arm now!'' D showed off by twitching each of her fingers one after the other on her right arm, slowly at first but then as the feeling returned she could move them more often.

''Diandra stop that!'' Toby snapped.

''But I'm fine really, look…'' She thought showing that she was fine would make them feel better, but for some reason it wasn't. And as she turned to her left side, she started getting uneasy as her left side was covered under a blanket and when she tried to move the fingers on her left arm, she couldn't feel anything. ''What's wrong with this arm?'' She asked.

Neither parent answered, they looked like they wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words to say. Diandra was now the one who was scared, panic covering her face. ''What's wrong with my arm?'' She asked again with more urgency.

''Diandra…'' Her mother spoke softly. ''You were crushed under one of the cars, your arm was so badly damaged…''

''What?'' Diandra cut in, her breathing becoming hitched. She turned to her left side and kept trying to move her arm but nothing was happening under the blankets. Her parents kept telling her to stop, but the adrenaline and terror she was feeling right now made her lose all connection to anything that was happening. She just wanted to see her arm move.

And then it happened; she tilted slightly, enough for the blanket to flatten over nothing, where her left arm was supposed to be there was nothing there. D screamed and was trashing lightly on the bed in a frenzy, not hearing what her parents were saying nor realising the doctors that had just run in to hold her…she was 13 years old, why did this happen?

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

D's room was brightened up by the morning summer sun, however it was too late to do anything to annoy her, cause she was already awake. Just reading one of her Martina Cole books she liked to read whenever she couldn't sleep. Thank God it was Sunday. She closed up her book and put it beside her bed, quietly as possible so not to wake her friend who was actually sleeping on her bed.

Debbie Jackson had been D's best friend since forever; in fact it was Debbie who came up with the nickname D cause she pointed out both their names began with D. They would always have sleepovers with each other, although they wouldn't call it that since D never slept that much anyway, so their nights were filled with boy talk, watching movies or trying out new clothes.

D never had many friends; but she would rather just have Debbie, cause she was probably worth the next 100 friends she makes in life. Ever since the accident with D's arm, Debbie had become like the housemaid of the house, the last 4 years she's been living with D more than her own home, not that she minded as her parents had a bit of an alcohol problem. Debbie practically did everything for her friend in the first year since the accident, but since then D tried to do more things herself however hard it was, just trying to normalise things again.

Debbie shuffled in her sleep before her eyes fluttered open and saw that D was already awake sorting out her books. ''Let me guess, you slept late last night''.

''Wrong, didn't sleep at all''.

''Again, D this is the third time this week you've had a sleepless night''.

''It's okay, just need to jump in the shower and I'll be fine. How did you sleep?''

''Like a baby…although I've never understood that. Sleeping like a baby means you slept well? Yet, babies tend to wake up in the middle of the night screaming''.

''Just one of life's great mysteries'' D joked before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her and locked it making sure no one would walk in on her to see her cry her eyes out once again. It was so hard now; she could just barely handle the few hours of sleep, but since the accident it had become almost unbearable. Everything she does now takes twice as long with only one arm, everything from getting ready for school to making breakfast for herself. And she had to keep her feelings bottled in whenever with her family or Debbie, they were doing all this for her, she didn't want to disrespect them by showing how much she hated this and how weak she was.

Once finished she dried herself off and looked in the mirror; she couldn't help but always stare at the scar below her left shoulder, where her arm was not so long ago. Whenever she did fall asleep she would sometimes dream that she had both her arms, but she would always know it was a dream, cause in real life she's forgotten what it feels like to use both arms.

The day went by so fast to her; everything around her now seemed faster than she was. She never liked walking around anymore, cause even though it wasn't uncommon for someone to walk around with arms or a leg missing, you would always get the odd stares and D didn't like it. In school it wasn't as bad, the first year or so people tried to show fake sympathy but once the fad of the one armed girl died down no one stayed to really show their care, except for Debbie and a few others that actually did care.

Even when trying to help her mother with shopping, she was the one that needed help in the end. After four years of this, she was still finding it hard to keep balance, probably due to her lack of sleep. So whenever she would carry something heavy, she did have a tendency to fall down, and she couldn't stop her fall.

But despite all this, there was still something else that frightened her more…

* * *

><p>''You know John asked me out''. Debbie said as she skimmed through YouTube on her laptop while D sat on the bed reading Martina Cole as usual. Her friend decided to just stay over for the night once again, even if it is a school night, her parents were having one of their drinking marathons, so who was D too deny her best friend another night of boy talk.<p>

''You mean John as in want to be an astronaut John?''

''The same, talk about heads in the clouds''.

''Aw, you said no''.

''I didn't say no, I said I'd think about it. But astronaut? Really? The guy can't even get C's in any of his classes''.

''Well there's always Matthew''.

''He's gay''.

D almost dropped her book off the bed. ''What? But what about all the times he stares and you?''

''Apparently it was staring at you and me he realised he was gay, that was just offensive!''

D hoped that she wasn't blushing as much as she thought. ''He was staring at me before?''

''Yep, but still how can looking at us turn him gay? I feel like punching him in the face next time I see him''. Debbie said sarcastically. When her friend didn't reply, she turned and saw that D was trying to hold back tears. ''You okay?''

''Huh? Yeah just…not many boys have bothered with since…'' She lifted up her right shoulder showing what she meant.

''D stop that. There is nothing wrong with you, I know a few boys that have a thing for you at the moment…I even know a few girls that have a thing for you''.

''Debbie!'' D yelped playfully, putting her book down and then smacking her friend with her pillow. They continued with their banter for a while longer until D thought she might have ripped the pillow slightly. ''I'm going to try and hit the hay''.

''Okay''. Debbie scooted down a bit more so D could lie down and try to get some sleep ahead of tomorrow. She needed to sleep at least for tonight; she had a physics test she needed to do. And that was the thing that worried her most; her lack of sleep meant her grades were dropping. She had some sympathy from teachers but that's not what she wanted, what she really wanted was insurance on her future.

What could she possibly accomplish when she leaves school? It'll be hard enough with low grades, but what is there she can do with a low grade job with one arm, almost nothing. She was afraid that this was it, being supported for the rest of her life and making others' lives a misery just like hers. And as much as she hated to say or even think such a thing…apart of her just wanted it all to end, just give up and…

''Holy crap!'' Debbie gasped earning D's attention.

''What's up?''

''All over YouTube, real-life superhero saves a man!''

D had to check to make sure she wasn't dreaming before sitting up and looking at her friend in confusion. ''Real-life superhero?''

''Yeah look!'' Debbie pointed to the screen. D watched on as a video played of a brawl going on in some parking lot. Recorded on a phone was a video of some kid in a green diver suit with two batons fighting off against three guys, defending a man on the ground. The two girls winched every time the kid got hurt, but to their surprised he kept fighting until he made some speech about dying to protect this man he didn't even know. The three thugs ran off, and then the kid spoke to the holder of the phone saying _'I'm Kick-Ass!'_

''Wow!'' Debbie gasped.

D was shaking her head in disbelief at what she was seeing. ''He's crazy''.

''Huh?'' Debbie asked dreamily still focused on the screen.

''He was going to get himself killed defending a guy he didn't even know, that's just stupid''.

''Not really, that's the whole point of a superhero''.

''But he's not a superhero! He's just some kid…''

''A pretty cute kid''. Debbie interrupted earning a look off her friend before continuing. ''Well he's someone whose put on a costume, fought off thugs to defend someone in need. If he's not a superhero, then I don't know what is''.

''But it's just…just…'' D tried to find the right words to describe this; this person could have died, he could have been beating to a bloody pulp and left unable to walk. But deep down, she felt admiration for this guy she saw…Kick-Ass. ''It's just a bad name, Kick-Ass? Like we so don't get the message. Anyway, I'm off, night''.

She gently lay herself down again, her mind fixed on what she saw. Kick-Ass had all the odds stacked against him; he was outnumbered, the thugs were armed with knives and looked much stronger than he was. Yet he came out on top, just because he wanted to protect his fellow man. All this going around D's head caused her to drift off without knowing.

D got up before the sun could rise once again; she pushed herself up, Debbie was fast asleep headphones still on her ears watching more news reports of Kick-Ass. D laughed quietly before checking her clock and gawking at the time. 4:30! For the first time in years she's slept for almost six hours in one night! Even before the accident that was a rarity. Curiosity got the better of her; she needed to see more of this Kick-Ass.

She gently moved her onto the pillow and cover, fumbling about a bit with difficulty but finally doing it with her friend still fast asleep. The only difference between these two; Diandra could hardly sleep, Debbie could sleep through a hurricane.

D put the headphones on and watched all the videos Debbie had overnight; news reports of Kick-Ass beating the thugs, CCTV shots of the fight, people's reaction to this, even parodies on those late night chat shows. And this only happened what? Not even half a day ago. This kid had become a sensation, was that what he was trying to do? And then it dawned on D, a slight little thought on what would have happened if she had been in that position.

She laughed at the thought, but the longer it lingered in her mind, the more she seemed to understand it. Maybe this kid knew what he was doing; he obviously knows more about superheroes than she does. There has to be some want and desire to put on a costume, and for a brief second, D was starting to feel that desire. She can't be sure now, she doesn't even know that much about superheroes.

''Debbie? Debbie''. She whispered to her friend nudging her slightly. After a few minutes of name calling and nudging, she heard the grumbling confirming she was awake. ''Where would one buy comic books?''

''A comic book store''.

A light blush came over D's cheeks. ''Oh right, of course''.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks no one really knew for sure what it was, but something about Diandra had changed. Every day after school now, she would be asking Debbie to show her all the comic shops there were and which she should buy if she wants to know more about them. Glad that her friend was finding comfort with something, she showed her and told her all there is to know about superheroes and what they represent.<p>

Over the weeks, Debbie seemed so full of life again. Nothing really concerned her anymore, cause all she could think about now was superheroes. Comics, films, TV shows, she had suddenly become so wrapped up in them surprised by just how much depth and humanity there really was to them. It even got to the point where D was actually starting to beat Debbie in fantasy debates about who would win against who.

''Black Adam does have the advantage…'' Debbie persisted. ''Superman hates magic, he can't…'' She stopped when she saw that D had quickly fallen fast asleep. That was another thing everyone started to notice, she was sleeping more so than before the accident. She was actually laying in for the whole night and for the very first time; Debbie would wake up before D. All of her dreams filled with the vast world of superheroes…and it only got better.

Another real-life superhero entered the scene; caught a wanted drug dealer, another kid in a red costume and cape who went by the name of Red Mist. ''He's even cuter than the last one!'' Debbie said as they watched his interview on the news. It didn't matter to D whether one was cuter than the other.

And then a few weeks after that, something extraordinary happened. Kick-Ass along with another superhero had been kidnapped and were about to be executed live on the web, that is until they were saved by a little girl in a superhero costume that took out all the bad guys before shooting right at the camera not afraid to throw some profanity either.

Diandra was now fully hooked on the whole superhero craze now, there was a reason they were doing it, and then for her fantasying just couldn't cut it anymore. ''What if I were a superhero?'' She asked herself. A bit too loud cause Debbie looked at her with raised eyebrows.

''You want to be a superhero?''

''I think I do…'' D said much to her own surprise. ''I've never been so sure about anything before till now. Just with everything that's been happening to me, I just feel like this is something I have to do, that I want to do''.

Debbie scratched the back of her head, trying to work out what to say. ''D, I love that all this superhero stuff has been really fun for you. But do you really want to be a superhero?''

''Yeah, look at Kick-Ass and Red Mist; they were kids who wanted to try it and look what they've got. Why not me? I can do it''.

''D, I'm not so sure''.

''What?'' She questioned a bit shocked by her friend's hesitation. ''You were the one who tried to get me into this stuff…''

''Yeah, this stuff…'' Debbie said holding up a Spider-Man edition. ''The comics, not the real thing''.

''What are you saying?''

''I'm saying it's dangerous D, people die in the streets all the time. And you being a superhero would make you a walking target''.

''I know that, that's the whole point of being a superhero. Risking their lives to protect their fellow men, I get that now. I finally get it, this is something that I really want Debbie, please just let me have this''.

''No, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to put my foot down on this''.

''You're sounding like my mum, why won't you let me do this?''

''Because you can't do it!'' Debbie shouted before she could stop herself, regretting those words instantly as the hurt expression appeared on her friends face.

''Oh…I get it''. Diandra said bitterly taking her friend's words the wrong way. She was so hurt with what her friend was suggesting that she didn't care if the tears ran down her cheek. ''Kick-Ass and Red Mist can take care of themselves but I can't right?''

''D I didn't mean…''

''No I know what you mean. Poor defenceless Diandra, the one armed girl who can't do anything for herself. Not once since the accident have you ever brought this up, that's why I've always loved talking to you. You never showed how weak I was…''

''You're not weak…''

''Then why can't I do this? Why can't I be a superhero like anyone else? Because I'm handicapped, because I'm fucking half of a person''.

''I'm not saying that''.

''Get out!'' Diandra hissed. For a moment neither of them did anything else, however Debbie finally respected her friends demands and walked out. D wiped away the tears from her eyes, now was not the time to show her weakness, not after that fight. She was going to prove herself; this missing arm wasn't going to stop her, not this time.

From her wardrobe she brought out a long green trench coat with a hood, and dark jeans. Once she gets this night over with she'll think about getting a proper costume and maybe choosing a name for herself. Once she was sure Debbie had left and her parents were asleep, Diandra sneaked out and began her search for her first superhero mission.

It wasn't like the comics where you walk around and find trouble straight away; she had to look around for hours on end. It was quite nauseating for her, she'd finally gotten use to sleeping regularly that staying up late and walking about was making her feel weak, but that was something she shouldn't feel right now. Still, maybe she was harsh on Debbie; she was only trying to look out for her. However she didn't want to be looked after, she wanted to overcome this flaw herself.

''You lost sweet cheeks?'' She heard a voice coming from behind. She turned and found herself staring at a large obese thug with a beard and bald head. The smell of vodka stained the air, and D tried not to gag at the stench. ''Maybe you can crash with me, I'll protect you''.

''I don't need protection!'' D tried to deepen her voice, making her sound more intimidating. ''I'm a superhero''.

The thug laughed his head off. ''Oh really, oh I'm so scared''. He taunted her and them pulled out a pocket knife. Now D was scared, in all her determination and stubbornness…she hadn't even learnt how to fight properly. She picked up some things the past week but nothing much. ''Well go on, do something super''.

D moved her coat over a little, stopping the thug from seeing her left side; she didn't want to give him the opportunity to exploit her weakness. She kicked forward but the thug easily stepped back and dodged. She kicked out again which led to the same thing, the thug laughing as she kept kicking and missing. ''You're new at this aren't you sweet cheeks''.

''Shut up!'' She screamed and then punched the thug in the face. She backed off as the thug spat out blood, but didn't seemed hurt one bit…just really pissed off at her.

''You're going to pay for that bitch!'' He moved his knife forward showing her his intentions. Filled with terror, she turned heel and ran. However the thug was much faster giving the extra arm advantage he had and caught up with her. _**BAM!**_ He slapped her hard to the ground; the coat and hood falling off revealing not only her face but her missing arm as well.

The thug was surprised to see her left arm gone. ''Fuck me. You don't seem to have that much luck sweet cheeks. But I think my lucks improving!'' He smiled sadistically as he pulled her up by her hair. D could only scream for help, praying that someone would hear her call. She hated this; she was going to die being the weaker one. Just when she'd found something she might want out of her life, she stupidly falls headfirst into the dangers. And she won't even get a chance to apologise to Debbie for how she acted.

_**BAM!**_ ''AHHH!'' The thug yelped as something hit him hard in the side. He let go of D who fell to the ground, backing away as someone holding a large stick of sorts beat down the thug. _**BAM! BAM!**_ The thug couldn't even get any comprehendible words out before he was punched down until he was the one on the ground, bloody and broken.

The new figure than moved his hand forward, he was wearing a metallic glove, the fingers resembled claws. The thug begged for mercy before the figure slashed across his throat and then pushed his head back causing to fall off completely. The nausea, the fear of being beaten and almost raped and then seeing someone's head lopped off was enough for Diandra to vomit heavily on the ground. She coughed and sobbed until she looked up at her saviour for the first time.

This person's costume was the beak doctor costume, which Plague Doctors wore in London during the black plague. An ankle length black overcoat and a bird like beak mask. Along with a brim hat and glass openings for eyes. The only key difference was the gloves were metallic claws, and in one hand he held a giant stick with the bloodstains of the thug now covering it. Despite seeing this figure just kill someone, D had to show her gratitude for saving her. ''Thank you, thank you!''

_**BAM!**_ The Plague Doctor then swung the stick, striking D hard across the face. She fell to the ground hard, holding her stinging cheek. _**BAM!**_ He then kicked her hard in the stomach before hitting her in the back with his stick again. Before any more damage could be done, D rolled aside and out of the Doctor's distance. ''What the hell are you doing?''

The Plague Doctor didn't respond, instead he merely walked forward silently. D didn't want to find out the answer to her question anymore and tried to turn and run _**BAM!**_ By the time she turned, the Doctor kneed her in the stomach somehow covering the distance so quickly. She was on the ground once again. The Doctor took her coat and threw it aside, and then he did something that truly showed D's limit of what pain is…he stamped on her left shoulder near the scar.

Diandra's scream echoed throughout the street; her cries filled with anguish and agony. This man was determined to cause her as much pain as possible as he shuffled his weight on his leg from time to time. It became too much for her to handle, and she started to lose consciousness. The last thing she saw before complete darkness was the Plague Doctor taking off his glove and moved his hand over her head.

* * *

><p>Diandra's eyes fluttered open weakly; she observed her surroundings for a second, finding herself on some hospital bed with a couple of doctors (normal ones) talking to her parents. And on the other side, was the first person to notice she was awake. ''D! D you're awake, everyone she's awake!'' Debbie screamed with joy as she and D's parents quickly crowded round.<p>

''Baby, you're going to be fine!'' Denise whimpered as she kissed her daughters' forehead.

''What happened?'' D asked.

''You were found on the streets, next to a…a dead man. You don't remember?''

Diandra tried to think hard about what she was doing out on the streets; but she couldn't remember a thing, it was like trying to remember the start of a dream for her. And why was there a dead man next to her? She actually couldn't remember what night it was that she snuck out. ''I can't remember''.

''It's okay…'' Denise assured her. ''Your father and I just need to talk to the doctors for a minute''. She then turned to Debbie, ''Will you watch her for a moment?''

''Yeah''. She answered. Denise and Toby gave D one last little hug and kiss before going out to talk to the doctors about something. Debbie pulled up a chair and moved closer to her friend. ''So you really don't remember anything?''

''No…it's…it's like a void, I just can't remember in between…oh God my head hurts''.

''No wonder, you took quite a beating from that thug''.

''What? You mean I got into a fight?''

Debbie's eyebrows shifted up slightly as she watched her friend's face turn to panic. ''Well that's what I thought, with you wanting to prove yourself to be a superhero like Kick-Ass''.

''Superhero? Kick-Ass? What are you talking about?''

Debbie was now the one with a panic stricken look on her face, she knew when her friend would lie about something or not, and she wasn't lying about this at the moment. ''You don't remember all that talk, you wanting to be a superhero?''

''No''.

''What's the last thing you remember?''

Diandra thought hard for a moment, she got fragments of some things but could never piece them together. After what seemed like years for both of them, D finally got her mind together and remembered. ''We were in my room talking; about…you said there were some boys who liked me. And that you found out Matthew was gay…then the next thing I remember was me waking up here''.

''D, you've forgotten at least two months. Everything about you wanting to be a superhero''.

It was that moment the tension broke and D started laughing lightly. ''Me a superhero? Can you see someone like me have what it takes to be a superhero?''

''But…but you said…'' Debbie stuttered trying to find something to say to help her friend remember, but nothing she tried would work. As much as D tried to remember she just couldn't, it was all gone. And now it was impossible to tell who was more upset out of the two; cause for the past 2 months Debbie had seen life in her friend again, and now it had disappeared just like that.

It was the final straw for Diandra's parents; they couldn't handle all this anymore. They decided it was best for the daughter if they moved away from all this, and not just across the country…but the ocean itself. They knew that D loved Britain, so why not just live there, it wouldn't be as much trouble as here and there was something else about the move that seemed suspicious but no one really bothered to comment.

Life was back as it always was for D, her life moving so slow to a destination she wasn't sure about. Maybe moving to a new land would do her some good, but that meant leaving the things she already had behind; her school, her few friends at school, and Debbie. As much as she didn't want to leave she didn't have much of a choice, she needed something new to give her life purpose. Debbie had said over and over during D's memory void, she was the happiest she's ever been since the accident; maybe going to her place of fantasy could help her.

* * *

><p>''So you off then?'' Debbie said as Diandra helped her parents pack what was left in the car. That was it now, she was about to head off.<p>

''Yeah, but I promise that maybe during next summer we'll visit! This is just something to help with everything that's been going on''.

''You want something to help?'' Debbie then pulled out from her bag a little wrapped present and handed it over to her friend. ''Don't open it till you get to London. It'll be a surprise, and it might help with deciding what you want to do''.

''Thanks…I never got you a parting gift though…hang on''. D then reached around her neck and pulled out her plastic Emerald necklace, she's had it since she was very little, but rarely showed it since the accident. ''Take it''.

''No, I can't…''

''It's okay, just to show you I'll be visiting you again soon''. She handed it over to Debbie who took it with her eyes starting to water. The two hugged for what could have been mistaken for hours until Toby called out that they were ready to go now. They pulled apart and D walked back and over to the car, her little present still in hand.

* * *

><p>''You need any help unpacking kiddo?'' Toby asked as he leaned against the door frame.<p>

''I'll be fine, thanks''. D replied as her father walked away. Her room wasn't bad; in fact it was quite nice, bigger than her old one. She sat down on her bed and looked around at all her bags she needed to unpack, even with two arms it would take ages. However one bag she was eager to open wouldn't take too long. She reached over to Debbie's present and opened it revealing the last thing she expected.

''What the hell?'' She whispered to herself as she pulled out a custom made green hoodie. Black on the inside and around the neck was green pull up scarf to help cover her face. It gleamed in the light, and on the left side of the hoodie was a cape, probably to help shield her scar. ''Bit of a fashion disaster Debbie, but thanks''. She said, she had a feeling this was for all that superhero talk that Debbie was on about, but still why would she…

''Another one…'' Toby called out. D quickly hid the costume under her mattress just as her father walked in with the newspaper. ''They even do stupid things in London too''.

''What?'' D asked as Toby handed her the paper. On the front page was breaking news about how some kid wearing a superhero costume, going by the name of Omega Kid, took down a group of thugs and saved some teenagers that were being held and beaten by them. ''A real superhero?''

''I know stupid right, he's just going to get himself killed like all the others back home do. At least we know you would never do something like that right kiddo?''

D tried to hide the guilty look on her face as she faced her father. ''Right, I would never do anything stupid like that''.

''I know''. He kissed her head and then walked out of the room.

Diandra's focus was on the front page; this hero actually saved a group from some armed thugs and came out of it famous. Pretty cool, but dangerous. She thought that her dad was right; this kid would probably end up dead soon, but still he saved lives! That's got to mean something.

D's eyes were then darted over to were her costume was hidden, inside was this burning desire to try it out no matter how dangerous it was, she felt want and desire for the first time…at least in her gut it sort of felt like the first even though her mind keeps telling her déjà vu. A small smile emerged on her face, maybe Debbie was onto something about this. And then her déjà vu feeling kicked in again, and she blurted out. ''I think I need to start training''.

**The End!**

* * *

><p><em><em>So hope you all enjoyed this story. And yes all those 'Omega Kid' and 'Scarlett' fans will remember Diandra and Debbie, hope you've all enjoyed what I guess you could call their little origin story together. And for all those wondering about the mysterious Plague Doctor character, you'll be seeing more of him very soon. Thanks and take care everyone!<em>_


	4. In a World of Chances

**In a World of Superheroes**

**Disclaimer: **Now, although this fic may contain mostly OC's and groups owned by me, any character that appears in this fic that are from the Kick-Ass film or comics are not owned by me, but by Mark Miller and John Romita Jnr. Also, this will take place in film continuity.

****Note: ****Hey everyone! Apologies for my long absence. I'm back and with updates galore. Before we start, a few things to say. I now have a DeviantART account, TLFRurrlockAwesome, you can check that out for posters of my fics. For those who are familiar with my other 'Kick-Ass' story, Omega Kid, I now have a website for it, omegakid . weebly . com! Check that out for news, polls and many other things. And most importantly, I am funding for an Omega Kid film this summer. The crowd funding websites are Indiegogo, Pleasefund. us, and Sponsume. Please spread the word and support to help be apart of this film, check out prizes on sites. Now, on with the story.

**Story 4: In a World of Chances**

We fear of doing what we believe in most times because if we fail that, what else is there to believe in? That's the question that continued on and on in Arianna's head. She waited impatiently for the others to finish their auditions. She would occasionally peek behind the giant red curtain to see how her rivals were fairing in front of the three judges. It wasn't helping her confidence one bit seeing them gracefully dance and move in ways she herself found breath-taking and hard to compare herself too.

No, she couldn't bring herself down, not this time when she's so closer to her dream it's practically right in front of her. The dancer was finished; next another woman walked on and introduced herself to the judges before showing her skills. After that, it would be Arianna's turn. 18 years old, short black hair, and clear skin; Arianna wasn't as beautiful as the other girls showing off, but she had more determination then any of them put together. Ballet had been her dream since before she could even talk, when she watched the competitions on TV as soon as her sight and mind had probably developed.

However, she had always had a problem with confidence. Whenever she's had the chance before to follow her dreams and get herself noticed, it was that fear of failure that stopped her. She was afraid of what others would think of her, how they would judge her appearance and laugh at her. Not now, she knew, but just only a few months ago…when she was so skinny she was just barely able to support her own body.

_One Year Ago…_

Arianna coughed and spat out as much as she could; her frail body bent over the toilet seat as she puked out the contents within her stomach that she had only consumed a few hours ago. She had tried to keep it in, but the stress building up around her was too much and she had to just let it go. Back then, her jet black hair was much longer, and at times she would find bits of her vomit stuck in the strands. Quickly finding anything she could use, she cut away at her hair, getting rid of all evidence…no one was to know about this.

Waiting a few seconds to see if her parents had heard her and run up to check out what was going on; she breathed in a sigh of dark relief as nothing happened, she had got away with it once more. After flushing, she slowly rose to her feet, her legs still wobbling and finding it difficult to keep herself up. Rinsing her face and hair she walked back to her room and just sat on her bed, her stomach aching to the point it felt like she would throw up again. But she couldn't, there was nothing left to throw up.

It was impossible for her to decide what to do the help her, she couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. Was she sick because of her lack of confidence? Was it her lack of confidence that was making her sick? It was an endless cycle that left her in tears and forced her to cry herself to sleep every night. Not too loud so to wake her parents, they never understood her really. It was her dream to go into ballet, but they continued to say she never had the build to do it, and she was starting to believe that maybe they were right.

Her parents were gone nearly all day every day, so she would be home alone to practice. But she started to notice how hard it was for her to even keep her balance anymore. The more times she would fail and fall, the sicker she felt and the endless cycle would go on and on until she was in tears once more. No matter how many times she tried, there was nothing she could do.

School would be starting in a moment, getting herself ready she noticed again how weak she was. It was getting harder for her to even carry her school bag over her shoulder, and her school uniform was falling down due to her slimming body. If she tried to eat something though, she would get stressful and just throw it up again, making it impossible for her to then even last the day at school. So she just tightened her uniform to its limit and walked on.

She had missed the bus, meaning walking was the only option, not good at all. Her legs felt like jelly, they normally would after practicing, but now it was just constant pain. Needing a break, she parked herself on a nearby bench. The congested Chicago traffic and frantic people around made her feel dizzy; God was there no end to this. She was only in tears again before the call of a young girl got her attention. ''Mommy! Can we go see the dancing superhero again?''

Arianna looked up to see a crowd gathering around the corner. The mention of the word superhero had got many people's attention, but it was the word dance that made Arianna curious. Picking herself up, she walked over toward the crowd and tried to see what was going on. This was probably the one time her skinny frame came in handy and she squeezed her way through before finding herself at the front of the pack to see what all the commotion was about.

In front of her, was a woman dancing…and not just dancing, ballet dancing? But not in your typical ballet get-up. The tutu was dark black and smaller than normal sized one, black sock leggings with matching dancing shoes. Her face was covered by a black mask, and her eyes were in golden contacts. Her appearance was quite striking, but Arianna was more fixated with her moves more than anything; she didn't look the fittest dancer in the world, but she danced so seamlessly it was like she had never heard of gravity before.

Before her was a hat with coins and some dollar notes in, as well as an official charity sign and note, as well as the name of the dancer…The Swan Mistress. She was a charity superhero. They were more common in the Chicago area than the ones that actually fought crime and villains. Arianna didn't have any money to give unfortunately, but that didn't mean she was just going to leave. There was something…strange and spontaneous about this woman's dancing that intrigued her, it was unlike anything she had seen.

Just then, Arianna's attention darted over to the hat of cash for a split second to see some dirty and rugged hobo of sorts reach over with his long arm and snatch at the money. In his other hand, he had a broken bottle, holding out the sharp end to the crowd, he was given space to make a run for it. Against all sense of rationality, Arianna found herself flinging her frail body in the way of the hobo. She wasn't strong, but the surprising strength of her leap of fate was enough to knock the guy to the ground.

''Out of my way bitch!'' The hobo shouts and was about to jab the bottle into Arianna when all of a sudden it was kicked out of his hand, smashing into hundreds of little pieces on impact with the ground. _**BAM! BAM! BAM! **_The hobo was struck multiple times by the feet of the Swan Mistress, forcing him to ground inch by inch as Arianna looked on. It was then she noticed the similarity between the way she was kicking and the way she was dancing, it was nearly identical, she used her superhero fighting skills to help her dance.

_**BAM! **_The hobo was roundhouse kicked in the face with enough force to send him spinning down to the ground, out for the count. The crowd cheered at the action and heroics they just witnessed. Arianna was still in shock from the whole ordeal, everything was a blur around her, until she noticed a black gloved hand offering her help.

''That was brave, thank you!'' The Swan Mistress said as she helped Arianna up.

''It was nothing…'' She whispered in reply.

''Actually it was a good two hundred bucks, more or less.''

Arianna nodded although there were words that kept ringing on in her head, literally ripping out of her forcing her to just blurt them out. ''Your dancing is amazing!''

Swan giggled at the complementary outburst. ''Well thank you, a little unorthodox I've always thought but…''

''Not at all…'' Arianna cut in. ''It was unique I think, I'm a…well I…I want to be a dancer too.''

''Oh? Is that right?''

''It's been my dream since forever!''

Swan gave her a warm smile. ''It's nice to hear that. Well then, our charity does need a few extra dancing's to raise some money for the refurbishment of homes for the homeless. Interested?''

It was happening again, Arianna's confidence was stopping her from agreeing and living her dream. After what she just saw, how could she ever compare to that? She was looking down to the ground, the words still stuck in her throat, trying to say yes but it was so difficult. ''I'm…I'm not…I don't have…the right physique too…''

''What are you talking about?'' Swan interrupted. ''You look fine to me. Tell you what little duckling, I've got some free time on my hand, I'm finished on this street about three. Maybe afterwards you could pop over and I could help you along.''

Arianna was so close to pinching herself, but afraid to do so in case this really was a dream. No one has ever said she might have what it takes to be a dancer, everyone has always dismissed it. Just that little glimmer of hope and praise was all it took for Arianna to nod her head and finally agree to something.

_Present Day…_

And so here she was. Swan had trained her and helped her get back on her feet, using superhero training of all things to help out. Swan apparently did some crime-fighting before working for charity, but things were getting to out of hand for her, so she semi-retired and instead used her alter-ego for charity work. However, her past of fighting was actually what helped her become the dancer she was, and she would use those skills to train Arianna.

Luckily, that didn't mean Arianna would have to beat thugs to a pulp, she would just learn what Swan learned without the danger. And it helped greatly, it was strange to get use to, but she found herself happy and confident with this way of learning, and that's what she needed confidence…and that one chance.

''Hey…'' Arianna was brought out of her thoughts by the dancer that was on just before her. ''It's your turn.''

''Thanks Becca, you were good out there!''

Becca just shrugged her shoulders. ''I was just warming them up for you, you're about to give them the real show. Go get them duckling.'' She winked.

Arianna nodded back to her maskless teacher and walked onto stage, the three judges eyeing her up and obviously taking not of her slightly smaller figure. But this didn't dishearten her anymore, not with her mentor and friend behind the curtains supporting her all the way, and giving her that chance she's needed. ''My name is Arianna Graham…and I want to be a dancer!''

**The End!**


	5. In a World of Inspiration

**In a World of Superheroes**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters from the Kick-Ass comic or film written by Mark Millar, or any guest characters from other Kick-Ass fanfic's they are owned by their own writers and creators. However, all original rights and characters for In a World of Superheroes belong to me and are owned by me alone. So if anyone wants to ever us characters or anything else from this story for a special chapter or fic will have to ask first...but don't worry, there's a 99% chance I'll say yes.

**Note: **This chapter was inspired by a word challenge from the 'Underground Fanfictioners', Pencil.

If you enjoyed this chapter and want to know more about my work, you can like the Rurrlock-God of Power Facebook page.

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><p><strong>Story 5: In a World of Inspiration<strong>

A comic-book writer is inspired by the rise in real-life superheroes and villains.

The descriptions were too simple! The characters weren't developed enough! The story had no three-way structure! These were just some of the faults that Stan Miller saw in his draft. He desperately wanted to get this story finished and handed in to his publishers. He knew that they didn't care what he handed in, as long as it was something. But Stan didn't want to just hand in anything, he wanted to know that he had thought up and created a story worth creating…nothing though seemed to be going right for him, and he was running out of time.

After one lucky CV submission to a publishing company, and a couple of lucky interviews that gave the impression he would work quick and cheap, he was given an opportunity he had always dreamed off since he was a little boy, to write a superhero comic-book! The publishers gave Stan exactly 30 days to come up with a one-shot masterpiece that was guaranteed to be a success for them. That seemed easy enough when first given the job; Stan had written many stories in a shorter space of time for small-time newspaper agencies, but maybe it was afterwards that he realised the scale of the task he had thrown himself into.

The comic-book company, Vinebook Comics, were already in a bit of a financial meltdown; maybe that's why Stan was given the job so easily. This was his chance on the big scene, so Stan wanted to make sure he had a story that would really stand out and be something special. To have a story those readers could be invested in, not finically but emotionally! To have characters that the fans could connect with and develop an understanding for! But no matter how hard he tried; the pages either remained blank or filled with pointless sketches that had no relevance to anything other then keeping Stan from going mad.

''Coffee?'' His lovely wife, Emily Miller, offered him a cuppa. They had been married for nearly 14 years now, going through thick and thin together and many different jobs to earn enough money to have for on the table, one week at a time. Stan accepted the beverage, also taking her hand and planting a soft kiss to her knuckles. She smiled gently and leaned in next to him. ''How's it going?''

Stan sighed heavily. ''Not so well dear! I just can't seem to get started. I know I want to write something, but it's just not there!'' He pointed to side of his head, emphasising his point.

''It's not about knowing you want to write, you have to feel like you want to write! Isn't that what you always say?''

''Tis true!'' He responded in sarcastic defeat. ''In that case, it means I don't feel like I want to write! But I have to. It took me months just to get this chance, if I let it slip by without even a front cover to show, that's not going to look good for me.''

Emily rubbed her husband's back tenderly. ''You'll think of something.''

Stan almost chuckled. ''What? Draft, write and draw something with three days to go before deadline? I don't think anyone is that good dear!'' It was like he was trying to make a joke from it, but the distress in his voice made it all to clear the grim reality of his situation. The company won't accept lateness of projects, especially from rookies, if nothing was handed in, Stan would be won't without a moment of hesitation from the publishers.

Zoned out, thinking about the possibility of being unemployed for another year; Stan failed to notice Emily's hand touch his cheek and force him to face her. She placed a light kiss on his lips. ''You are! When you're inspired!''

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><p>Stan continued to sit at his desk, staring at a blank sheet of paper with a sharp, cold pencil on stand-by. Emily had already left the house for her job, librarian. It didn't sound too spectacular when discussing it with friends, but for Stan and Emily it was truly important, because not only has she been working there for nearly 20 years…it was the very place where they had first meet.<p>

When Stan was a college student taking up art, he would usually head to the library for some quiet time and use the library atmosphere as an inspiration for his artwork and story telling. It started off with casual glances at the new librarian, and then carried on to eventual hellos and conversations about their personal interests and hobbies. It eventually took a year, after Stan had graduated from college that he plucked up the courage to ask Emily out, and the rest is history…like many of the books in the library.

He couldn't help but admire the way Emily had held on to the same job for so many years while others were let go, however, even a hard-worker like her isn't expendable. It would only be a matter of time before the library would be closed down with growing taxes and economic cuts. That's what made Stan determined to get this comic right and become a success. He had been in-and-out of employment with newspapers for so long, it was really Emily's wages that kept the two going. If she was let go from work what then? They weren't even financially secure enough to look after themselves at times, how could they possibly start a family.

The thought of failure and admiration for his wife still wasn't inspiration enough for Stan to get started with this comic. He groaned heavily in frustration, why couldn't he just write something?

Stepping away from his desk, he paced around the house trying to think of something, anything! There had to be some kind of inspiration that would get him going; any music he could listen to? Any films or shows that would lead to an idea? Or better yet, look in today's newspaper! There must be some big story going on in the world that could generate some form of inspiration.

Skipping through page after page, he read everything that the news had to offer. Nothing stood out for him though, there were some sad stories, some over-exaggerated stories, and some bizarre stories that made him consider calling up NASA so that he could move to the Moon and not live on this planet any more. But nothing that ignited that spark he was desperately searching for.

The pressure was growing to boiling point now! He had just reached the middle of the newspaper before his knuckles clenched and his ended up scrunching the paper and tossing it to the side. Anything that remained in his hands he started tearing to shreds. Sinking to the floor, he held his head in his hands, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to go into the publisher's office and tell them face-to-face that he had nothing to show. He would be ridiculed to the point no one would ever hire him again.

Raising his head, he noticed that a piece of paper was stuck on his leg. He reached over and picked it up, turning it over slightly, there was a word that stood out for him. It was a word that all of a sudden, lifted his spirit straight from hopelessness to hopeful…_Superhero?_

What kind of news could some fictional superhero offer that was good enough to be printed in the paper? This was only the title however; the text was somewhere hidden in the shreds all around. Diving into the pieces, he looked and looked for anything that could possibly match up to the headline news. After what felt like hours, but in actuality was just a couple of minutes, Stan found what seemed to be the continuation.

_A man being chased by a group of thugs was lucky to have a good Samaritan on stand-by to save him, what was so shocking about this saviour was his attire consisted of green…_

That is where the page had been torn off. Once again, Stan was in a desperate search to find where this piece of news was leading. After scavenging around for a bit, he found the next part of the story.

…_Spandex and two batons, a real-life superhero! Witnesses reported in, and video evidence was brought from cell-phones and CCTV footage, showing the lone hero defending the battered man against a group of four. Before one of the witnesses, recording the incident, approached the hero and…_

''Damn it!'' Stan yelled as he scouted around again for the next piece. He couldn't believe this though, a real-life superhero? Not in the movies or comics? Someone actually putting on a costume and fighting crime! It sounded too good to be true! As he looked around, something inside him seemed to click, and his mind became so much clearer. But before he could address that, he found the last piece of the report.

…_Asked for a name. The hero replied, ''I'm Kick-Ass!'' Two have been arrested on suspicion of assault, and the man that was attacked is already being questioned. However, there have been no leads on the identity of this masked figure._

That was the end of it! A real-life superhero had actually saved someone from a group of attackers, no powers! No high-tech gadgets! Just someone wanting to defend others from harm! As the wheels in Stan's head began to turn, it felt as if a bright line was shining upon him…this was it…inspiration had struck.

Not wasting a single second, Stan rushed back over to his desk, grabbed his pencil, and let his imagination do all the work!

His hand didn't stop moving for the next few hours. He had lost all train of thought from the outside world, all he concentrated on were the empty pages before him, soon becoming filled with ideas, characters and stories that seemed ingenious now. A superhero in the real world, what must they be going through in their lives? How do they get through their jobs while keeping this secret? What's it like for their families? How would they use today's technology to benefit them? So many questions, he wanted to answer them through his story!

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><p>It had been a few weeks now since Stan had submitted his one-shot idea to the publishers; all he could do for the time being was wait for that agonising phone call. Tapping his fingers on the kitchen table impatiently, he was stopped by the tender hand of Emily's, holding his showing her support. Stan breathed heavily in anticipation. ''The estimated time of call is today! What if things don't work out? What if they didn't like it? Maybe they wanted something more conventional, not based in real-life! Maybe…'' She placed a hand on his lips halting his ramble.<p>

''You can only wait and see. You wrote the story you wanted to, if they don't like it, it's there lose.''

Stan's eyes became weak and tired. ''It'll actually be more our loss.'' His look not drifting away from the jobs section of the paper that Emily held in her hand. For the first-time, she was the one that seemed more disheartened.

_**RING! RING! **_

Before you could say Jack Kirby; Stan dashed for the phone and answered. ''Hello, Stan Miller speaking.''

''_Yes Stan, this is Rupert Jay from Vinebook Comics, you brought back a one-shot story for us review?''_

''I did yes!'' He did his best to hide the large gulp going down his thought; his palms were sweating so much it felt like the phone could slip out of his hand.

''_Well we looked over it, the artwork appeared rushed and unfinished at places, but there was something there. So we sent it to test-readings in the south for feedback.''_

The anticipation was killing him; he just wanted a straight answer before he could have a heart attack. ''And?''

''_The reception that we received was not only very positive, but it became one of our most-talked about prototype issues. So, our employers have been discussing about changing the offer we originally sent to you. $500 for a one-shot, that was the original offer, can you confirm?''_

Stan's mood turned from delight, relief to fear in an instant. What if something happened with the company and now they had to deduct some of the pay? Or not pay him at all for at least a few months? Stuttering at first, he finally gave a clear answer. ''Yes!''

''_We at Vinebook Comics would like to offer an extension. $2000 for a bi-weekly series starting from next month, with a percentage increase or decrease depending on the sales of the issue!''_

He felt like fainting…he wanted to faint! He just wanted to drop to the floor in pure exhaustion, but he couldn't because he had to answer back! $2000 every two weeks! It was too good to be true. ''Uh…yes, I'll sign that extension!''

''_Good to hear, we're glad to have you on board. When's the earliest possible day you can sign?''_

''Tomorrow! I can come in tomorrow!'' Stan got out excitedly.

''_Great, see you then!''_

That was the last of it, the other side was cut on, and Stan could finally place the phone down, not even caring that he missed the table completely and dropped it.

''Extension?'' Emily questioned from the frame of the door as Stan approached her. No more words were needed, as he scooped his wife of her feet and spun her around with joy. Laughter and cheers filled the air as they embraced; finally things were back on track and so much clearer in Stan's eyes.

''Thank you for believing in me.'' He said to her tearfully.

''I always believed. When you have that pencil at hand, and inspiration in your heart, you're a great story teller,'' Then her hands ran down from his hands and onto her stomach, rubbing carefully and gently. ''I guess this is a good time for me to announce another little surprise.''

**The End!**


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